


Truths Both Big and Small

by the_seaworthy_muffin



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur is not ready for this, Awesome Merlin (Merlin), Blink And You Miss It Slash, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Magic Revealed, Protective Arthur, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:27:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27816070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_seaworthy_muffin/pseuds/the_seaworthy_muffin
Summary: Arthur knows about Merlin's magic. He shouldn't have anything left to be shocked about. But- Merlin is supposed to be fluffy, and quirky, and adorable, and harmless, and launder clothes and polish armor with his magic. Merlin is most definitely not supposed to call lightning from the sky, or blast bandits to oblivion, or-or-or-actually be a capable sorcerer by any means.Arthur is not Ready for this.*Arthur simply gapes, reveling at the feel of cool air over his chafed wrists. A dream. Just a dream. Just a very, very strange dream……“What!” Merlin throws his hands up in the air, face an utter study in bafflement. “What did I do wrong now?”
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 317





	Truths Both Big and Small

**Author's Note:**

> Written because I adore Merlin being Awesome and not knowing one whit just how awesome he really is, and also Arthur being needlessly protective (and then being shocked-baffled-affronted when the truth comes out). It's probably been done a million times already, but here's my version- hope you enjoy! *:)*

Arthur has always known that there was something not quite – ordinary, about Merlin. He can’t have said what exactly it was – those blue eyes a little too bright, the glitter of his smile the slightest bit too ethereal, the prickle of his arms when Merlin is around just a tad too electric for it to have been anything else.

So when he catches his idiot of a manservant lying back on his bed – _Arthur’s_ bed, thank you very much (and Merlin hasn’t even bothered to take his dirty boots off!) – watching Arthur’s clothes fold themselves, Arthur is surprisingly un-rattled.

He sighs, backs away, and closes the door as quietly as he can.

Of course Merlin has magic.

Of course he uses it to do his chores.

Arthur should have figured. Merlin has all the deadliness of a fluffy little stoat – _of course_ his magic would be of the fluffy and harmless sort, as well, instead of the deadly evil fireball-throwing variety Arthur has been growing a bit too accustomed to of late.

The fact that his manservant is a secret traitor hiding in plain sight shouldn’t have been endearing as it was. But it is, and Arthur, incensed, makes sure to give Merlin an extra-long list of chores the next day, leech tank and mucking stables proudly taking up the spot of honor.

_Serves him right,_ Arthur thinks, as Merlin grumbles off to do whatever he does when Arthur is being a bigger prat than usual. (Merlin’s words, not his; Arthur cannot imagine why by the love of god such a magnanimous master as he could ever be called that way……) The thing is, the fact that Merlin hasn’t trusted Arthur with this hurts way more than it should, and Arthur can be petty enough when the occasion calls for it.

This, Arthur supposes, most certainly does.

Being the kind man that he is, Arthur lets Merlin know that he _knows_ after letting him stew for about three more days or so.

“I figured there was something up with you- why didn’t you _tell_ me?”

Arthur gives Merlin a Look, and he deflates, sheepish. “Alright, I suppose I don’t really have the right to be upset at you about that. When- when did you find out?”

Arthur pauses a moment, than another. Arthur really shouldn’t be enjoying Merlin’s flustered expression as much as he is. “Well, you see, _Mer_ lin, when you use your magic to skive off your chores-“

Merlin curses under his breath. “I knew I _should_ have locked the door.”

The image that rises unbidden to Arthur’s head is actually rather adorable, Merlin lounging on the bed, red neckerchief askew, lips drawn up in a smile as the things in Arthur’s room zoom about polishing themselves. (Is that how it works? Well, Arthur shouldn’t know- not enough magic around to watch and learn, for one.)

“And do what?” Arthur teases. “Polish my boots? Fold my clothes?” A pause. “Dust my bed?”

Merlin groans, a suspicious sheen of moisture in his eyes. “Oh my gods,” he says. “I should have known you’d be such a prat about it.”

“Oi! It’s your prince you’re talking about right there!” Arthur puts Merlin into a swift headlock, short curls chafing against the fabric of his tunic.

“Arthur! You gigantic-“ Merlin squirms, huffing out a hot breath against Arthur’s forearm. No use- Arthur is a knight of Camelot, trained against the most distracting of situations. “Let me go!”

“Or what?” Arthur smirks, smug. “Use your- _you-know-what_ to escape?”

Merlin honest-to-goodness _bites_ his arm to get away.

The bandits, Arthur thinks, shifting against his bonds, had actually been rather intelligent this time around. They even had a fortress in the middle of the woods, which was saying something.

A pang of hurt races through his wrist where a bandit had kicked it, and Arthur winces. _Merlin._ Arthur should’ve been there to protect him, he shouldn’t have let that last bandit get behind him to knock him out-

Normally, Arthur would be the last person to be worried about a sorcerer’s wellbeing, because- why worry when you know they could just wave their hands about and whisper some gibberish and send people flying about in the air?

But it’s Merlin they’re talking about here, Merlin who trips over thin air, who uses his magic to do _chores_ , who couldn’t kill a fly to save his own bloody life, and Arthur is sodding terrified.

Then there’s a gigantic boom like thunder, and a blinding streak of lightning arcs through the ceiling, sending half his jailors flying and the other half sprawling on the ground. The smell of charred cloth and electricity permeates the air- and then another, earth-shattering _boom_ , and the door (iron clasps, probably thicker than Arthur’s _head_ ) is torn clean off its hinges.

The dust clears, and Arthur sees a lone, slim figure backlighted against the background of wreckage all about him, golden sparks crackling off his skin like a cup filled to the brim, overflowing.

Arthur spots a familiar red neckerchief and blinks.

“Merlin!”

“Ah, Arthur!” His idiot of a manservant – who apparently is powerful enough to take on half a dozen men without a sweat, who apparently can call bloody _lightning_ from the sky- scampers over towards him, wide smile on his face. “There you are! You know, it’s so much easier when I don’t have to keep hiding and thinking of excuses anymore- Arthur?”

Arthur blinks, again. This isn’t real. He’s probably dreaming. The pheasant they’d had around the campfire last night had seemed the slightest bit off- maybe it had some hallucination-inducing toxin in it. Or something. Heaven knows what may be wrong with these wild animal types.

Merlin waves a hand in front of Arthur’s face.

“Arthur? Sire? You all right?”

Arthur chokes, feeling inexplicably betrayed. “You do your chores with magic,” he coughs out, gesturing best as he can with two bound hands. “You fold my laundry and- and- polish my _armor_.”

“I could do it by hand from now on,” Merlin ventures, eyeing him strangely. Arthur wonders if his manservant is really that thick; if he doesn’t realize what a shock this evening has been to Arthur. As if realizing his idiot (yes, _his,_ Arthur is going to be honest with himself now) can probably blow the entire citadel apart with a thought hasn’t been much of a surprise.

Arthur snaps his mouth shut and glares at him. “No,” he grumbles. “And let me go.”

“Don’t be such a grouch,” Merlin grumbles, letting his eyes flash gold. Arthur’s chains fall useless to his feet. (And don’t they usually need _words_ for things like this?) “Should’ve just let you rot, if I’d known you’d be so ungrateful.”

Arthur simply gapes, reveling at the feel of cool air over his chafed wrists. _A dream. Just a dream. Just a very, very strange dream……_

“What!” Merlin throws his hands up in the air, face an utter study in bafflement. “What did I do wrong _now_?”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N(edited 12/04/2020): After I finished writing this, I found that there were some parts similar to onceandfuturewarlock's Secret. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/18226676 - I really love it, so most definitely go and check it out!) Mostly, I think, about Merlin being immensely powerful and Arthur being deliciously oblivious about it - the trope possibly had taken root in my heart and then mutated itself into this oneshot. :O I didn't notify the author, because I thought the similarities weren't deep enough to call it a remix, but if anyone feels it may be a problem let me know and I'll try to do something about it! I really love onceandfuturewarlock's works and I'd hate to have ended up plagiarizing one of my favorite authors. :(  
> That being said, this was really fun to write, and hope you enjoyed as well! :D Comments and kudos are always welcome and immensely appreciated <3<3


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